Little Black Book
by Sk8er Chica
Summary: "He'd been asking questions about his dad's vision for the club. She had to get the book away from Jax before he read any more of it." Gemma schemes to steal her late husband's journal. Set during Season 1, pre-"Hell Followed"
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.**

**A/N: Newly minted _Sons of Anarchy _fan thanks to Netflix. First story for this fandom, so please be kind.**

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Gemma Teller-Morrow nervously paced her kitchen. She knew her son had been reading his dead father's journal and asking all kinds of questions about his dad's vision for the club versus the way things currently were. Gemma hadn't seen the damn thing in so long that she couldn't exactly remember what else John had written in it. She knew one thing for sure: she _had _to get the book away from Jax before he read any more of it. God knows Jax would end up in trouble if he kept questioning Clay's leadership like that, especially when he did it in front of the others. Besides, when Clay finally couldn't ride his motorcycle anymore, Gemma just knew the guys would select her son as the next president of SAMCRO.

The problem was Gemma had no idea where Jax had stashed the journal. She already knew it wasn't in the box from storage labeled "John Misc." It was probably somewhere else in his room. Gemma didn't have the privacy to go looking for it either; Jax had spent much of the last few weeks when he wasn't working at the shop or for the club in the clubhouse. Brooding over his junkie ex-wife, sick baby, and dead father, no doubt. Gemma needed a plan to get Jax otherwise occupied so she could look through his stuff and find the journal...

"Gem, you comin' to bed?" her husband Clay's rough voice called from down the hall.

Gemma suddenly remembered something her husband had stowed away in one of the kitchen drawers: a small plastic bag of drugs. More specifically, the powerful sedatives the boys had used on the sheriff's deputies when they'd gone out looking for the child molester. She'd heard Clay mention the deputies had been knocked out for 12 hours. More than enough time for Gemma to do what she had to do. And she knew just how to slip Jax the drugs.

"I'll be back soon, Clay," Gemma called back. "I, uh, I think I left my purse at the clubhouse."

Gemma pocketed the baggie and went out to her car. A short time later, she reached the clubhouse, parked, and walked inside. The members drinking at the bar grunted greetings to her. Gemma went into the kitchen and was relieved to find that Bobby wasn't there cooking up a midnight snack. She took a glass down from the cabinet, which she filled with milk from the fridge. She popped the glass in the microwave for about 45 seconds before stirring in a few pinches of the sedative. Gemma used the spoon to drip some milk on her wrist to make sure it wasn't too hot. As she did, she wistfully recalled those long-ago nights of getting up every few hours to feed Jax a bottle.

Gemma made her way to the back of the clubhouse, where the bedrooms were. Even though it was almost 1 AM, Jax's door was still open. He was doing push-ups on the floor, wearing baggy basketball shorts and no shirt; the bruises on his back from the Mayans' attempt to kill him were finally starting to heal but still looked painful.

"Hey, Mom," he said, noticing she was in the doorway.

"You feeling all right, Jax?"

"Yeah, I guess," he answered.

"Jax, baby, you don't look so good," said Gemma, taking in the dark circles under her son's eyes. "Have you been sleeping at all lately?"

Jax stopped working out and shrugged. "Yeah, maybe about a couple hours a night."

Gemma sighed. "That is just not healthy with all the shit you've been through lately. You really need to get some rest." She held out the glass. "Here, honey, I brought you some warm milk."

"Do I get cookies and a bedtime story too?" he joked as he took it from her.

"Only if you promise not to wet the bed," she replied with a smile.

Jax was thirsty from working out, so it didn't take him long to finish the milk. He wiped his upper lip with the back of his hand and returned the glass to his mother. Gemma watched as he clumsily stood up, the fast-acting sedative starting to take hold.

"Thanks, Mom," he said, kissing her cheek.

Jax yawned, pulled back the blankets, and quite literally fell into his bed. Gemma remained in the doorway, tapping her long fingernails against the glass while she internally debated on what to do. If she started going through Jax's things now, there was always an outside chance that the sedative wasn't fully effective yet and he would catch her, or someone else on their way to bed might. She'd promised Clay she'd be home soon and he'd come looking for her. Gemma's maternal instincts also came into play. Jax really had seemed exhausted these past few days; he was finally sleeping and she didn't want to risk waking him up.

Gemma quickly formulated a new plan: Get up and go to the shop before it opened. (The Sons who worked there and slept in the clubhouse never got out of bed until it was strictly necessary). Thanks to the drugs, Jax would probably sleep until the afternoon, giving Gemma plenty of time to find the journal.

"Sweet dreams, Jax," she whispered, closing the door softly behind her.

Gemma made a quick stop in the clubhouse kitchen to rinse out the glass, then she got back into her car and drove home. After locking the front door behind her, she climbed into bed beside her husband.

"You were gone a while," Clay observed, pulling her close to him. "You find your purse?"

"Yeah, and then I went to check on Jax," said Gemma. "You know how he's been lately and us mamas worry."

Clay didn't say anything else because he'd started to snore. Gemma smirked to herself as she laid her head on his chest.

'_Phase one...complete,_' she thought.

At 7:00 A.M., Gemma wiggled out from under Clay's arm. She dressed, opting to wear one of her few pairs of flat shoes because anything with a heel would make too much noise. She drove back to the clubhouse. The bar area was deserted, except for Half-Sack the prospect curled up on the couch. Gemma went into the back and cautiously opened the door to her son's room. Jax was still in bed under a tangle of blankets; Gemma could tell by his deep, even breathing that he was asleep. Phase two of her mission was still a go.

Gemma had no sooner taken a few steps into the bedroom than she tripped over one of Jax's sneakers.

'_Now where the hell did he put that book?' _she asked herself after regaining her balance.

She ignored the cardboard box at the foot of the bed; she'd already checked that and hadn't found the journal. Gemma went over to Jax's desk and pawed through the drawers. No black binder. She hunted through the bookshelf and even looked inside the microwave. She made sure to put everything back where she found it; Jax would notice if his stuff wasn't where he'd left it.

On her way to the dresser, Gemma stepped on Jax's other sneaker and landed hard on the floor. She saw Jax moving around and tensed up, thinking she'd just blown her chance. She breathed a sigh of relief when all Jax did was roll over. Perhaps the laundry everywhere had muffled the sound.

Gemma stood carefully and turned her attention to the dresser. Nothing on top of it except vitamins and a bottle of Pepto-Bismol. The dresser itself was so crammed with clothes that it looked like the drawers had exploded. Gemma fought the urge to stomp her foot and swear loudly when the search proved fruitless. Jax probably wouldn't be waking up anytime soon, but one of the other members might decide to be an early riser for a change. She wasn't sure how she'd explain it if she got caught elbow-deep in her grown son's dresser.

Gemma ran a hand through her hair in frustration. The room wasn't very big. How many other hiding places could there be? She looked over her shoulder at the bed and it suddenly became obvious. She remembered that when Jax was a teenager, he'd stuff copies of _Hustler _and the like under his mattress or pillow. Well, there was no way to check the mattress right now. Even the biker queen couldn't shift at least 150 pounds of dead weight. The pillow, however, was another story.

She crept to the side of the bed and gently slipped her hand under the pillow. What she hadn't counted on was grazing Jax's arm. He stirred again and there was no doubt in Gemma's mind that he was waking up this time. She jerked her hand out from under the pillow. Jax opened one eye, then the other, and was slightly confused to find his mother standing over him.

"Good morning, sweetheart," said Gemma.

"What's going on?" Jax's tone carried some alarm. "Did somethin' happen to Abel?"

"Shhhh," Gemma said soothingly, brushing a bit of Jax's hair off his face. "Abel's fine."

Jax squinted at his alarm clock. "It's 7:30, Mom. What're you doing in here?"

"Oh, I just came in to pick up your dirty clothes," Gemma replied coolly. Lying had always come naturally to her, something that came in handy when you were an outlaw biker's old lady. "Me and some of the sweetbutts are going over to the laundromat later." She scanned the mess on the floor. "Now if I could just figure out what's actually dirty."

"I don't know, Mom," Jax replied groggily.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. His mom was leaning over, grabbing pairs of jeans, underwear, and shirts off the floor at random.

"How'd you sleep?" Gemma asked.

Jax yawned. "Like a rock."

Gemma smiled sweetly. "I guess warm milk still does the trick."

"Yeah. Thanks again, Mom." He got out of bed and stretched.

"You're welcome, Jax." Gemma straightened, balancing the pile of laundry on her hip. Now she just had to figure out a way to get him out of the room so she could check behind the pillow. "Honey, you know those little chocolate donuts you and the boys like?" He nodded. "There should be a box in the shop if you want some breakfast."

"Sounds great. I gotta go out there to make coffee anyway." There was an unwritten shop rule that whoever got there first had to get the coffee started.

Jax left. Gemma waited until she heard the clubhouse door close before making her move. She dropped the armload of clothes on the floor and yanked the pillow off the bed.

"Shit," she muttered, seeing nothing under it.

Gemma grabbed one side of the mattress and lifted it up. No journal. Gemma let the mattress fall back into place. She angrily tossed the pillow across the room, gathered up Jax's dirty clothes, and stormed out of the clubhouse. She didn't even notice things falling off the pile as she went. Unbeknownst to Gemma, John Teller's journal was still in Jax's room, safely tucked in the small crevice between his headboard and the wall.

**THE END**


	2. Alternate Ending

**A/N: Intended for this to be a one-shot, but cheryl24 gave me the idea of exploring an alternate ending. I'm recapping the last half or so of the story for those who haven't read the first chapter. Feel free to go with whatever version of the journal's fate you prefer. **

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Gemma crept to the side of the bed and gently slipped her hand under the pillow. What she hadn't counted on was grazing Jax's arm. He stirred again and there was no doubt in Gemma's mind that he was waking up this time. She jerked her hand out from under the pillow. Jax opened one eye, then the other, and was slightly confused to find his mother standing over him.

"Good morning, sweetheart," said Gemma.

"What's going on?" Jax's tone carried some alarm. "Did somethin' happen to Abel?"

"Shhhh," Gemma said soothingly, brushing a bit of Jax's hair off his face. "Abel's fine."

Jax squinted at his alarm clock. "It's 7:30, Mom. What're you doing in here?"

"Oh, I just came in to pick up your dirty clothes," Gemma replied coolly. Lying had always come naturally to her, something that came in handy when you were an outlaw biker's old lady. "Me and some of the sweetbutts are going over to the laundromat later." She scanned the mess on the floor. "Now if I could just figure out what's actually dirty."

"I don't know, Mom," Jax replied groggily.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. His mom was leaning over, grabbing pairs of jeans, underwear, and shirts off the floor at random.

"How'd you sleep?" Gemma asked.

Jax yawned. "Like a rock."

Gemma smiled sweetly. "I guess warm milk still does the trick."

"Yeah. Thanks again, Mom." He got out of bed and stretched.

"You're welcome, Jax." Gemma straightened, balancing the pile of laundry on her hip. Now she just had to figure out a way to get him out of the room so she could check behind the pillow. "Honey, you know those little chocolate donuts you and the boys like?" He nodded. "There should be a box in the shop if you want some breakfast."

"Sounds great. I gotta go out there to make coffee anyway." There was an unwritten shop rule that whoever got there first had to get the coffee started.

Jax left. Gemma waited until she heard the clubhouse door close before making her move. She dropped the armload of clothes on the floor and yanked the pillow off the bed.

"Shit," she muttered, seeing nothing under it.

Gemma grabbed one side of the mattress and lifted it up. Her heart skipped a beat. There, in the middle of the box spring, was the black binder she'd been tearing the room apart to find.

"Oh, Jax, you're so predictable," she said.

She snatched the binder with one hand and let the mattress fall back onto the bed frame. Gemma sat down on the side of her son's bed. She wasn't sure how clean the sheets were, but at the moment, she didn't care. She opened the notebook and found at least 50 pages held together by a binder clip. The paper was slightly yellow with age, the typewriter ink faded in places.

Gemma openly snorted at the cover page: "The Life and Death of Sam Crow: How the Sons of Anarchy Lost Their Way." John had always been hopelessly idealistic. Soft, even. He'd barely left the house for months after the death of their youngest son Thomas. Sure, Gemma had been devastated by the loss too, but it wasn't like they hadn't known what was coming, given the family heart defect. She'd reminded him over and over while the wound was still fresh that at least Jax was healthy.

Gemma flipped back the cover page, eager to read on. She'd have to hurry too, because it wouldn't take long for Jax to discover there really was no breakfast waiting for him in the shop. She barely skimmed over the introduction, where John had written about his service during the Vietnam War and becoming a father. She heard someone padding down the hallway toward the room. Knowing Jax would hide the journal from her and prevent her from delving deeper into it, she hastily snapped the binder shut and concealed it amid the pile of laundry at her feet. When Gemma looked up, Jax was standing in the doorway again.

"Hey, Ma, where'd you say you put those donuts again?" He still looked halfway asleep. "I couldn't find 'em."

Gemma snapped her fingers. "Ya know what? I musta forgot 'em at home." She shrugged. "Sorry, Jax. I've really gotta get this laundry done, so just tell the prospect to make you something."

Jax wasn't sure he'd trust Half-Sack to even plug in the toaster, but what was the point of being vice-president if he didn't take full advantage of it? Prospects knew they had to do whatever a club member asked of them if they wanted to wear the coveted Reaper.

"Prospect!" he barked. There was a thud and a muttered curse from the bar as Half-Sack presumably fell off the couch. Jax didn't wait for an answer before shouting again: "Breakfast!"

"Huh?" Half-Sack sounded more confused than usual, which was saying something. "Everybody's done already?"

It was club tradition that prospects weren't allowed to eat at club functions or clubhouse meals until patch members had finished their food. This was strictly enforced by Tig.

"No!" Jax snapped. "I'm tellin' ya to _make _me some breakfast, ya dipshit!"

"B-But I, uh...I kinda can't cook." Half-Sack said nervously.

"Figure it out!"

Half-Sack didn't have an answer for that.

"That's my boy," Gemma said with a proud smile.

She gathered up the laundry and kissed her son on the cheek before leaving the clubhouse.

Gemma drove back to her house, threw Jax's clothes into the washing machine, and settled herself at the kitchen table with the binder. Clay had already gone to the shop, so she didn't worry about being interrupted. As Gemma read, she could almost hear her dead husband's voice in her head, waxing poetic about the bonds of brotherhood and his distaste for crime. John had wanted, more or less, a rough-looking, leather-clad commune on Harley-Davidsons. Her pulse quickened in anger. This certainly explained Jax's behavior as of late.

It got worse as the book went on. John denounced the gun-running and other illegal activities the group had gotten into, naming specific people and incidents. Clay was mentioned quite frequently.

"Bastard," Gemma muttered to herself.

She lost her temper completely when she reached the passage where John talked about wanting better for his son Jackson. Gemma took the binder clip off the pages and stomped out to the backyard. She stopped at the state-of-the-art charcoal grill, a birthday present to Clay from Jax. There were still coals in the bottom from the last time they'd used it. Gemma dropped the partial book onto the charcoal and poured liberal amounts of lighter fluid over it.

"John, I am not gonna let my son's life be ruined by your goddamn ghost," she said savagely before touching a flame to the grill.

Gemma stood back with a cold smile, watching the pages burn.

**THE END**


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